


new perspective

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [151]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, first meeting redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Hermann and Newt meet for the first time, again.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [151]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Kudos: 20





	new perspective

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "I was thinking about Newt and Hermann's first meeting and how bad it went and how they would have wanted to do it differently if they could and came up with this: Time travel Hermann redoes his first meeting with Newt. Hermann is older and more mature and knows what to expect from the man he loves but Newt still manages to nearly ruin it several times. He’s so bad at this."

The first time around, it goes awfully. 

Their first meeting, that is. Timeline alpha, as he designates it in his head: his point of origin. In it, he throws tea at Newton after a ridiculous remark about the quality of Hermann’s work that shouldn’t sting as much as it does. 

When he gets the chance to go back and try and change things—the world is under attack from the kaiju masters again, God; it’s almost funny—, he doesn’t expect taking it will put him here: two days before they’re slated to meet again. 

Or. _Meet_. It’s only again for him—for Newton, it’s the first time. 

Hermann runs his fingers over the rough, heavy paper of Newton’s last letter—the one confirming when and where they’ll meet. 

The action is involuntary, nearly, on his part; something about feeling it beneath his fingers seems to offer comfort. Something about the thought of _Newton_ offers comfort—then again, it always has, for Hermann.

He could call Newton and cancel. 

He doesn’t. 

Instead, he pulls his hand back from the paper and curls the fingers, one by one, closed and then open. 

Two days later, Newton is wearing that stupid graphic-t again—for Hermann, anyway. For Newton it’s the first time. There’s something about it that makes Hermann mourn that he didn’t appreciate his version of this, the first time.

“Newton,” Hermann greets; as levelly as possible; determined, _this_ time, to try and make sure things don’t spiral out of hand. 

Newton scoffs. “Dude,” he says, “only my mom calls me that. Newt, remember?”

“Forgive me. Newt,” Hermann corrects; but the name sits oddly on his tongue; and Newton must notice, because he scowls; face twisting. 

“If you didn’t want to come, you should have just said so,” he snaps. “Saved me the trouble of coming all this way.”

His first instinct is to snap back—tell Newton that maybe he was right; maybe it was a waste of time; and then he remembers that it isn’t; that Newton will never be a waste of time, and says, instead, “I did. Want to come, that is. My apologies if I came off as snappish—I’m merely not—“ he hesitates; continues. “Used to using nicknames, you see.”

Newton relaxes. “Oh,” he says, and glances away; sheepish; drags a hand through his hair. His shoulders are losing their tension. "Sorry.”

 _You always were so ready to pick a fight,_ Hermann thinks; half-exasperated, half-fond; offers, instead, a smile. “Quite alright,” he says, and takes a sip of his tea. “Would you like to order? It’s near lunch time.”

The other looks up at him; returns the smile, tentatively. “Uh, yeah, that’s probably a good suggestion—I’m kind of hungry.”

* * *

“I can’t _believe_ you!” Newton screams.

They’re standing in the lab, of course; they’ve worked together in the same lab since Newton joined the PPDC K-Science division. That was never a question—they never got into the screaming match they did the first time around, and, as such, remained on good term.

Well—generally.

Newton is, and always has been, someone who seeks argument at any and every turn. Hermann is, too, to some degree, but over the years, that impulse has gotten buried a bit.

“What, that I would argue for funding for something I _know_ works rather than encourage the board to grant funding for something that barely works on paper?” Hermann snaps.

A muscle jumps in Newton’s jaw as he clenches it. “We both know that’s bullshit!” he bites back, “you just hate me!”

Hermann’s brow furrows. “Newton—”

But the other’s already stormed off; slamming the door unnecessarily behind him. Hermann sighs. This isn’t the first time they’ve had this argument, and it probably won’t be the last time they have it, but Newton seems to be particularly upset this time.

That turns out to be true, as, four days later, Newton’s _still_ not speaking to him in anything more than strictly necessary sentences.

Hermann’s first instinct is to let him; Newton probably wants some time to cool off.

Then he remembers that the _last_ time he went with that logic was after their first meeting, and _that_ only lead to neither of them speaking to each other for three years, so instead, when he has a break in his work, he goes over to Newton’s side.

“Newton,” he says, trying not to sound too horribly awkward.

The other looks up from what he’s doing. “What?” he asks, flatly.

“I wanted to…to clarify that I wasn’t attacking your credibility as a scientist the other day.” Hermann licks his lips; suddenly feeling oddly nervous. “I simply—the alternative was losing all funding for my predictive model, and if that were to happen…” he trails off.

Newton’s expression softens minutely. “Fair enough,” he says. “I mean, it was still a dick move on your part to call my work baseless conjecture, but I…I get where you were coming from.”

Hermann lets out a silent sigh of relief. “Good,” he says; and then: “I, ah, I apologise for my…tactless remark.”

That brings a slight quirk to Newton’s lips. “’S alright,” he says; and then: “you can repay me by holding the table steady while I go at this with the bonesaw—”

“Absolutely _not,_ ” Hermann says.

“Hey, I had to _try!_ ” Newton protests.

* * *

“You _idiot,_ ” Hermann hisses.

To be fair, he’s also an idiot, standing here, next to the fallen body of Otachi’s child, ready to Drift both with it and Newton, _but._

“Hey!” Newton says, “look, man, next time you get chased by two kaiju and one of them eats one of them right in front of you, I’m sure _you’ll_ love being called an idiot. Now pass me that squid-cap.”

Hermann sighs. “That doesn’t make much sense,” he says, “and it doesn’t disprove my point. Also, unless you want to die, you’re going to let me Drift with you. Before you protest, I checked our files; we’re compatible.”

Newton gapes at him. “ _What?_ ” he says, half-strangled. “Dude, you can’t just go, _Oh, by the way, I’m going to Drift with you_ —”

“Well, I am,” Hermann snaps, and shoves the squid-cap at him, and takes the other one and begins to hook it up.

Newton rolls his eyes. “Be glad I like you,” he grumbles. “Otherwise, I’d have stopped talking to you ages ago.”

“Glad you didn’t.”

The Drift is more or less like he remembers it; blue and quick and a little bit painful and very overwhelming, what with the hive-mind.

After, though, it’s quiet.

Newton almost slinks off to his room in the comotion of celebration in the LOCCENT, but Hermann spots him; heads over to his side. “Medical,” he says, sternly. “Who knows what Drifting with an alien— _twice!_ —may have done to you.”

Newton scowls at him. “Dude, I’m _fine,_ ” he says.

“Just—just come, please,” Hermann says; lowering his voice, aiming for gentle. “Please?”

Newton’s lips purse. “Okay, fine,” he sighs. “But after we’re cleared, I get to crash in your bed for a nap. Your pillows are better than mine.”

“Alright,” Hermann agrees, and reaches out to settle a hand on Newton’s arm. “Er—I hope you don’t mind,” he says, sheepishly. “The, ah. The contact is…comforting.”

The other grins; tired, but genuine. “Nah, man, it’s fine,” he says. “If I weren’t absolutely filthy, I’d hug you. And maybe kiss you, but only if you want.”

“I do,” Hermann says. “But first we’re going to get a full check-up, and a _shower,_ because, as you pointed out, you’re _filthy._ ”

“Spoil-sport,” Newton says, but it’s without an edge.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
